_xMika

Withlock scanned the contents of the missive judgmentally, and with a heavy sigh echoing he simply murmured "Why do we care for ember law?" he simply tossed the missive to the side and continued "Is he truly the herald of umbrage?" His voice held a tone of resentment and uncertainty, to him the pieces simply didn't add up. . Though for now he shrugs it off, perhaps it was a simple mistake written in ink.

I second this heavily, i understand the reasoning why some may want feat slots but i heavily doubt its necessary because most of the issues come from the feat themselves, and not to mention how complicated it would be to even sort out a thing like this in the first place. But, if you're gonna do it, try to somehow put a cap on the feats that actually give something of value (maybe they cost more slots idfk), and not the ones that basically just enhance a character's aesthetic at most.

A lone weaver dissected and read the missive piece by piece, and before long. A loud and lengthy cackle echoed and reverberated off the caverns he inhabited "How long has it been? Years? Decades, perhaps?" he spoke, his voice thick with nostalgia as if he was reminiscing though, the weaver's interest was cut short and with a flick of hand. He let the missive slide and fall into the heith-heidran pit beneath him "I'm sure the Delmar is rolling in his grave ay?" he mused to his accomplice before walking off.

As the plagued 'ker read the missive an amused smirk formed on his ivory features, and with a glance over his shoulder. The void weaver simply said "Be ready lads, looks like we might have found ourselves some new work" gently bending the missive into itself over and over again, the 'ker made preparations or his departure.

What does he think of LoTC? I'm curious what his outside perspective is.

I only PK when I truly feel like my ch's story is complete and fulfilled, I haven't had that feeling yet though(Mainly because i haven't been in many conflicts). I'm also scared of giving my ch's a premature death, I don't want to look back and go "Man I could have done so much more" and end up disappointed. It's selfish, but I want my character's to end on a strong and poetic note. I wouldn't have them die by being stabbed by a random NPC bandit or robbed for example, i'd want their deaths to have a genuine meaning and impact.

"I should make one of those" The lone 'ker playfully muses with a bright smile etched on his plagued visage "Meh that wasn't funny hope they figure it out though"

Burn all scions [Artificers ontop]

I've asked this before to others but i'm curious, what is the one issue you've personally ran into the most after 4 years?

What is the most common issue you've ran into? And what would you do to fix it?

BROOOO please accept it so i can drop corc 🙏 other than that pretty good lore

A lone 'ker didn't take but two seconds to read the missive instead his optics drifted about the page until finally, they landed on the name of a city "Now i know where i'm moving" without hesitation the 'ker folded the missive carefully and murmured "A mistake it was to let someone else control the wheel but we all make mistakes"

I'll miss you, you were great to roleplay with.

A plagued 'ker squints at the missive "A h" he murmured something underneath his breath and for a moment he kept himself well stood and staring. He was contemplating something for some reason something seemed off and suddenly he yelled out "THEY CAN WRITE!?"

Free me

The child of agony stood amongst halls of black his eyes narrowed at the missive before him one that had his own named signed upon it "Like beating a dead dog" he murmured underneath his breath all whilst a sorrow crawled upon him and doubt creeped in as well, for he found himself facing the ones he once called ally's. "I hope to not see you in this battle, old friend" he carefully folded the missive into itself "War amongst our own, hopefully this will be the last"

dope

Good ******* job, this is the type of lore i absolute love. I hope this gets accepted, would be an amazing addition +1

[!] A lone weaver made way towards a castle of ice, and with his gaze fixed upon a missive he held a cackle came from his core "If only i was there to assist" with the missive being thrown to the ground, a devious grin formed behind the ivory veil he wore "There will always be next time"

"Join us." The once-lone weaver pleaded all with a glance to a foggy skin, tainted by a deep and ranging blizzard. "You know what he took away from us.... please." His tone and hands began to shake. Was he fearful of war? No. . He was fearing something much worse. He quivered at the thought and pain of having to strike someone he considered his own ally, his own kin. . It ate at his mind and stabbed at the deepest parts of his heart. "She held you in the highest regards; she spoke of you as a king. . Avenge her, show her that her loyalty was not wasted." Finally did he find peace within himself he took in a deep breath, and from this breath came an acceptance. A new age was to come, and a letter was to be written. "Xion will fall, the mystics will fall... All those who follow Mordring will fall. I plead, don't be one of them." Finally did the weaver stroll into his new home, where all his kin resided. No longer was he alone, no longer was he buried underneath stone and stuck within infinite halls. He found peace amongst his ruined life. .

A lone weaver read the letter all whilst marching across a snow blizzard. Even though the cold pierced his skin, and sent shivers down his spine he stood still uncaring. . the only emotion he felt, was an unyielding rage. One, that would only be quenched by the life force of a king "You have not failed me" he finally spoke, that once nice and charming high imperial tone, being replaced with a gurgling and rageful spite. "You have opened my eyes, to the truth. . . Because of you, I understand that the beliefs, that our gravelord once clung to are nothing but lies" Even though rage had overwhelmed him he still found peace in the letter. . he clung to it tightly, for it was the only thing left he truly cared about. "I will kill him, no . . death is to simple for such a soul he deserve worst, peace is not an option"

[!] There stood a lone weaver in a hall of silence, one that once held a close friend. . . one that held laughter and voices. . but now it simply laid empty "That fucker" is what the weaver murmured underneath his breath, he had finally snapped he thought of everything that led him to this point. The pain, the suffering he had seen be forced upon his comrades and himself. "Mother, is it wrong of me to curse the path i am following?" he whimpered a mixture of sadness for the fallen, but before tears came to roll down his cheeks he came to blurt out in pure anger "I will NOT follow a god whom KILLS his followers, without even blinking" the weaver crumbled, he wept and raged. "I stand alone, once more. . " the lost and cursed weaver simply pleaded "Someone, tell me what to do" though such pleads as per usual fell upon deaf ears

Atop the large bridge of the ports an olden weaver stood with his set of disturbing creations though this time. . Only one remained amongst his duo, nonetheless. The ebon creature still held an unblinking gilded stare, so unnatural but yet. . still pulsating with life. "Swing and a miss" the lad mused whilst a smile grew on his lips "It's alright, we will get you next time" throwing the missive into the heith-hedran beneath him, the weaver walked away in a cackle. He found himself amused and excited. For the future, after so long. . . showed promise.

Very cool and sick, i hope this goes through.

Steps echoed in the once lively halls of mina, and from the shadows came forth the last remaining weaver of those broken and barren ports. "You all left, when we needed you most " he spoke out, all whilst crumbling that missive in his hand. Slowly turning such into a wasteful ball "A leader wouldn't have ran away, a leader would have stayed and helped" throwing the missive to the ground his gaze trailed to a familiar face "None of them did, they are undeserving of loyalty they are cowards. . But, it is your decision to make O'zen" and with that he continued onwards leaving the decision in the hands of another